On this side of Muirgen, night had fallen hours ago. Fillion did the mental math. It should be eight in the evening here. Two hours to midnight.
“Head into the city,” Master Gella said. She pointed. “That way.”
Fillion had been about to instruct Coatl to land, but was more than happy to direct his bond-mate where Master Gella indicated. Let’s fly that direction.
A rumble thrummed against his thighs, and Coatl banked and flew them to the enormous city.
Fillion smiled. It was more than a little exciting to get to see the oldest city in the nation. A boy from Cotter’s Grove was getting to travel all over the world. He’d felt a little jealous of the special investigators for being able to go anywhere they wanted, and it just now dawned on him that he could do that and more. All thanks to his amazing bond-mate.
He patted Coatl on the neck and a happy feeling of excitement came through the link.
The city was just as big, just as imposing, as Delcimaar, if a bit more . . . lived-in. Parts of it blazed with light, globes sparkling on buildings, towers, and along streets and around courtyards. Signs in front of some businesses, too, cast sorcerous light along streets. There were also parts of the city that were much darker, with only a few street lamps illuminating them.
As they flew along, with Master Gella pointing them in a new direction now and again, a few of the taller buildings they flew over and around, city lights reflecting from their dark windows, reminded him of the spires and rock towers from the desert lands around Bataan-Mok. Based on the number of rows of windows, several of the buildings reached incredible heights of ten to fifteen stories. Stronghold was indeed just as grand a city as Delcimaar.
Eventually, Master Gella directed them to a large, squat building. At five stories, it was about half the height of most of its towering neighbors.
“Land on that roof, there. The building is the headquarters of the city police. It’s one of the older buildings, mostly stone in construction. Centuries ago, it was part of an outer defensive wall. I think it’s sturdy enough to support Coatl’s weight.”
Fillion looked over his shoulder at her. “You think?”
“There were several cisterns on the roof for water that would be heated and poured through various murder holes along the walls. The roof was built to support the large stone tanks, even when full. Those weighed a great deal more than a dragon or three or four. Most of the older buildings were designed with the idea that they might have to support the weight of people, weapons, and such on their roofs, so should be able to support a dragon.”
Fillion grunted and looked down. Even with light from street lamps and such reflecting from the windows of nearby buildings, the roof was only dimly lit. Luckily, dragons had eyesight superior to humans. Land us on that building. But be ready to take off if the roof doesn’t support us.
Humor came through the link. Let us see if we can break this building.
Fillion laughed as Coatl banked down to land.
The building seemed to withstand the dragon’s not minuscule weight. Coatl took a few steps around the roof before letting out a disappointed huff. It is not breaking.
Fillion chuckled and dismounted.
After handing him the riding belt, Master Gella said, “The special investigators have public offices here where I’ll meet with my people. I figure that dragons will start to visit Stronghold as often as they do Delcimaar, and the police headquarters can be Stronghold’s counterpart to the plaza behind the Bureau of Guilds in Delcimaar, at least for now, so I had you fly me directly here.”
“I see.” He removed his riding cap and leaned back against Coatl. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”
“Oh, I want you to come with me. You may as well know what the new investigation is about, in case I need your further assistance.”
He stood. “Excellent!”
She said, “Coatl, take your ease anywhere up here.”
With a rumble, Coatl circled once and lay down. Call on me if you need me.
I will, big guy.
Master Gella glanced around the dark roof. “I’m sure people saw us fly in, so I’ll have the chief of police informed that we have a dragonlinked visitor and that there will likely be future visits as well.”
He looked around, too. The roof seemed to be made up of large flagstones. But that’s about all he could make out in the dim light. “How do we get into the building?”
“Ah, here it is.” Master Gella walked over to a slightly darker square area on the roof.
It looked like some kind of hatch. She lifted it up and light streamed out, revealing a ladder leading down.
Fillion hesitated. “Are we going to get in trouble for just showing up on the roof and barging in on the police like this?”
“The top floor of this building is leased by us—the offices I spoke of are there.” The grin on her face took years off her. In the light shining up from below, she looked like a little girl up to no good. “We’re actually barging in on special investigators!” She pointed to the hatch. “You go first, so I can close this after.”
With a laugh, Fillion headed down the ladder. He found himself in an alcove, just off a hallway. A sconce on the wall across the hallway lit the small cubbyhole.
As he waited for Master Gella, he had a moment of panic. What if the special investigators thought this was an attack? Would daggers or worse suddenly shoot from around corners? He dropped into a ready stance, gaze nervously darting back and forth, trying to take in both directions of the hallway at once.
Fillion?
I’m fine. Just a little nervous.
Master Gella hopped off the ladder and said, “Worry not. Earlier, I sent a ’writer message to expect us.”
Fillion let out a loud breath. “Yrdra’s ti—” His eyes grew large. “Ah, that is, you could have told me that sooner. I was worried we might get rushed by investigators under the mistaken impression that we were attacking.”
Master Gella chuckled. “Come. The others are waiting but I need to send a runner to the chief of police.” She left the alcove and headed down the hallway to the right.
At an intersection, she led him left into another hallway that terminated in stairs leading down. About ten feet before the staircase, the right side of the hallway gave over to a kind of open foyer or vestibule. There was a desk just inside the area, and a man was stationed there, facing the hallway. In the wall far behind him were three closed doors.
Master Gella had a quiet conversation with the man, at the end of which he nodded. She then led Fillion back the direction they’d come from, past the roof alcove, and to a door near the end of the hallway.
She stopped and turned to him. “Everyone you see in here will be special investigators, almost all of whom occasionally work covertly. As such, should you ever come across any of them, whether they are in disguise or not, do not approach them and do not indicate in any way that you know them. If they want or need to speak with you, they will do so. Their very lives—and yours, for that matter—may depend on it.”
Fillion nodded soberly. “I understand.”
“Good. Incidentally, the same applies to me, should you see me out and about in disguise. If I don’t acknowledge you, ignore me.”
“Of course.”
There were five people in the room, two women, two men, and, was that a girl? They sat in chairs at the other end of a table perhaps seven feet long. None of them said anything when he and Master Gella entered, but their eyes studied him so intently he was sure they somehow knew what he’d had for breakfast. He swallowed.
Master Gella indicated a chair at the near end of the table and Fillion sat in it. She continued to the chair at the far end.
“Investigators. This is Apprentice Dragonlinked Fillion. He and his dragon, Coatl, graciously brought me here for the meeting.”
“Ah, this is Fillion, eh?” The girl leaned forward to see past the man next to her and eyed him appraisingly.
Fillion stared. C
opper ringlets framed her face. And on that face . . . good gods, he’d never seen someone with so many freckles before. They looked—
“Yes, I have freckles. Well done spotting that.” She looked angry. “If you say anything disparaging about them—”
“Not at all.” Fillion shook his head. “They look amazing. Like the spots on a leopard or something.”
Her eyes grew large, and even all her freckles couldn’t cover the dark blush.
The man sitting next to her, the older of the two men, burst out laughing. “If you could see your face!”
The girl scowled at him before crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair.
The man, he might be thirty, turned and smiled at Fillion. “Well done with your help on the National Transportation issue, by the way.”
Fillion nodded once. “It was my pleasure.”
“So,” Master Gella clasped her hands before her, “what news of the rumors?”
Further introductions were not made, nor did Fillion expect them to be. As Master Gella had said, these people lived and died by their anonymity.
“It’s the same tripe that’s been spewed the past few years.” The man who’d complimented him rifled through a pack. “But since the equine virus, the rumblings have picked up, and these,” he dropped a pile of small items that looked like flyers or pamphlets onto the table, “have recently gotten more and more reformist.”
“Indeed.” A woman picked one up from where it had slid to a stop near her. She looked to be of an age with Master Gella. “To be sure, many still look for the city council to do something about the economic morass, but the voices blaming High Lady Hasana have increased in number and volume.”
“You can’t walk two blocks down a main street without your ears being accosted by one crier or another deriding the High Lady for not saving the people.” The oldest of the women, perhaps in her late forties, frowned and shook her head. “As if she can impose her will in these kinds of matters.”
“Someone is leading this wave of criticism.” The girl picked up a pamphlet and examined it.
Fillion was more than a little intrigued to see someone younger than him. She looked to be fourteen. Perhaps there could be a place for him with the special investigators?
“Go on.” Master Gella, eyes narrowed, stared at the girl.
“The language used in these makes clear who they blame for the slow recovery, but many of the criers have begun using speeches that insinuate the same, and the wording used by all of them is far too adroit for most of their kind to have come up with on their own.”
“Not only that,” the younger man sat deeper in his chair, “the criers have begun to sound much too similar. Where before they each had their own ax to grind, now, more and more are beginning to sound as if they’re singing from the same song book.”
“I’ve been following a rumor about a company hiring people, criers.” The middle woman flicked the pamphlet with her finger and it slid across the table, toward the pile. “Perhaps it is they who are getting the criers to sing like a choir.”
“Keep on it,” Master Gella said. “If you need assistance, do not hesitate to ask one of the others here.”
She nodded at Master Gella. “As you say.”
“We need to discover if all of those,” Master Gella indicated the flyers, “are being printed by the same people. Perhaps we can link them to that company.”
The man looked through the pile of pamphlets and said, “They are of varying quality, but as he mentioned,” he glanced at the young man, “what they say and how they say it does make it seem as if they’ve all been taken from the same book, as it were.”
“I have some contacts in the printing business,” the older of the women said. “I can work on that line of inquiry.”
“Excellent.” Master Gella nodded, then began drumming her fingers on the table. “It is as the High Lady feared. These rumors being spread about her are not mere rumblings.”
“Separatists?” The girl stared at Master Gella.
“Perhaps. They do seem to rear their heads whenever times are very good or very bad. Whatever the case may be, this is now the focus of my next investigation.”
They all nodded.
“There is something our new friend may wish to look into.” The young man sat forward in his chair, eyes on Fillion.
“Oh?” Master Gella glanced at Fillion then back at the young man.
“As I made my way up the back stairwell, I overheard a short conversation through the door on the second floor—officers talking about a nahual attack at the river docks. Apparently, officers discovered the body of man in a warehouse there, a little over an hour ago.”
+ + + + +
Once they were strapped in on his back, Coatl crouched slightly, then leapt up, lifting off the building. Glancing down, he was slightly disappointed to see that the roof remained undamaged, even with his forceful jump.
The air under his wings felt different, here. Flying in this place was like flying in Delcimaar, which was to say that it was not the same as flying in the countryside. Air currents, updrafts, and even the sizes of the upwellings, everything was vastly different in a city. It took more work to stay aloft, but it was fun, and the buildings were pretty, too, in their own way.
He flew along the street, its lamps illuminating everything below with their soft glow. Tall buildings passed quickly to the left and right as he gained altitude and speed. He beat his wings again and again, angling upward.
Now and then someone who happened to be looking out the window of a building as he passed would spot him and his riders. Their eyes would grow large, but the rest of their reactions he could not see because they were quickly left behind. He did feel their shock, surprise, and awe, however.
He rumbled happily. This city is like Delcimaar, but it feels older.
It does, big guy, doesn’t it?
Coatl was not sure what gave that impression, that was just how it felt.
Alright. Master Gella says we should head north and east a bit.
He banked to the right slightly.
I’ve never asked before, but how is it that you know what direction you’re going?
The question made him look back at his bond-mate.
Fillion raised his arm and tapped his wrist. I have to look at the compass, but you just go.
I know where north is, where south is. It is similar to how we can tell where a nahual is, but different. You know where your tail is just because you know. It is like that. Though, if I concentrate enough, I can almost see . . . lines, curtains of light, running across the sky from the north to the south. He faced forward again.
You get more amazing all the time.
He curved his lips into as much of a smile as a dragon could. More magnificent?
He felt Fillion’s laughter through the link, felt it faintly through the saddle. You’re so full of yourself.
Dragons have big stomachs, four of them even, so there is plenty of room.
This time he actually heard the laughter.
He approached a large river. It cut a wide, darker swath across the nighttime landscape. Occasional glimmers were visible on its surface, reflected starlight, street lamps from the other side, or the lights on the boats that traveled across its surface. Aside from those, even with his vision, the river was darkness. The buildings themselves grew darker the closer they got to the river. Shorter, too. Only squat, wide buildings stood near it.
Set down over there, by that second warehouse-looking building.
Coatl banked around to where Fillion was thinking about and descended. Hovering, wings beating hard, he set down on his hind paws, then, holding his wings up, he dropped to all fours. He furled his wings on his back as Fillion began to unstrap.
“Thank you for coming along, Master Gella.” Fillion jumped to the ground.
“As dragons and dragonlinked are still uncommon sights here, I thought it best if I came along in case I need to help smooth the way with the investig
ating officers.”
The building Coatl had landed in front of did indeed look like what humans called warehouses. They were large, mostly empty structures, designed to store things, or so Fillion had once explained. Coatl was not sure why humans had need to keep so many things around. A glance about revealed a number of similar buildings along the wide river.
“Let’s head inside, see if we can find them.” Master Gella led them to the large open doors.
There are people inside. They must be the officers Master Gella speaks of.
Fillion nodded. Good.
Coatl had thought the doorway on his old den was big. This one was three times as tall and at least four times as wide. As they walked in, he was surprised at how much larger it looked from the inside. He never thought he would feel small, but he did now.
He looked about the place. What reason would there be to store enough things to fill a building this size?
Trade, commerce. The river back there is a very efficient, if slow, way to ship things. Trade goods are stored here either before they get shipped out of, or after they are shipped to, Stronghold.
I see. It was amazing that humans would trade so many things with each other. But what exactly would people trade in such numbers? He would ask about it later. In the meantime, he would try to ignore the strange smell in this place. It was thick and heavy and attacked his nose like vinegar.
Two of the people here were ahead, around what looked like a human body. One wore a kind of uniform, but the one examining the body did not.
The woman standing turned to them. “Who are you people?” Her eyes grew large and a spike of shock and surprise came from her. “Good gods, is that a dragon?”
The kneeling man turned to them, and he also gave off surprise.
“I’m Special Investigator Gella.” She handed the police woman some kind of leather case. “This is Apprentice Dragonlinked Fillion and his bond-mate, Coatl.”
He let out a friendly rumble, trying to reassure the people.
“We understand there was a nahual attack earlier tonight?”
The police woman and the man continued to stare at him.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 6
